


you got me feelin’ wired

by Possiblyenjoyable



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, i dunno what it is! i just love me some wireplay!, there is a severe lack of wireplay fic in this tag and i plan on remedying that, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 05:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15235932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Possiblyenjoyable/pseuds/Possiblyenjoyable
Summary: Hank’s favorite thing to do before he met Connor was drinking. And now, it’s… well.It’s Connor.(In which Hank remembers that Connor moaned that one time he had Hank fix some of his wiring, and Connor briefly goes blind.)





	you got me feelin’ wired

**Author's Note:**

> SUP IM BACK W ANOTHER HANKCON FIC 
> 
> i literally have written both of my dbh fics only to appease my boyfriend who shares like all of my kinks and i’m pretty sure if i didn’t love his praise more than anyone’s then i would never have written either of these so thanks babe

Hank’s favorite thing to do before he met Connor was drinking. And now, it’s… well.

 

It’s Connor.

 

Since they first made any advancements on each other, Hank has fingered Connor to completion three times, Connor has blown him twice, and they’ve fucked once. Last night. Hank hasn’t stopped thinking about it all day.

 

(Whether or not he thought about how Connor stayed in bed with him all night afterwards with his head on his chest just as much as he thought about the actual sex, he’ll never tell.)

 

The fact that they built him with the ability to sexually perform is bizarre to Hank. He hasn’t asked Connor why yet, and he doesn’t really see any reason to; he’s just curious. He doesn’t want Connor to think that he’s put off by it or anything.

 

_ Connor’s  _ favorite thing to do seems to be blue-balling Hank. He’s certain that the moment that Connor realized his feelings were reciprocated, he decided he was going to persistently and mercilessly tease Hank in every possible way he could get away with. He has enough sense in him to calm it down when they’re in public or at work, but at home, there is no rest. No escape. No asylum from the many cases of blue balls that Connor continues to inflict upon Hank. 

 

He loves it.

 

Today, however, has been oddly peaceful. No work, no errands, no  _ teasing.  _ Hank almost didn’t realize it. But it’s nearing ten o’clock now, and the movie they were watching has just begun rolling its credits, and the only even  _ remotely  _ suggestive thing Connor has done today has been putting his head on Hank’s lap while they lazed around on the couch. And that was more sweet than it was suggestive. Not that Hank minds that, no, he fucking adores it. Connor has no reason to lay down other than that he likes the contact with Hank. It’s flattering, to put it lightly.

 

As the next movie in his queue begins playing, Hank moves his hand from where it rested on Connor’s upturned shoulder to his hair, fingers running through it gently. 

 

(Something Hank didn’t know about Connor until the second time he blew him: Connor has a thing for hair pulling. He asked him about it afterward, about the fact that androids don’t feel pain so why should hair pulling do anything for him, and Connor revealed to him that androids do have pain receptors, but they can turn them on and off at will. Connor turned his on not long after accepting his deviancy in an effort to feel even more alive. Hank has no complaints.)

 

At the base of Connor’s neck, there’s an incredibly vague square outline that you wouldn’t be able to see unless you were deliberately searching for it up close. It’s an access port. Hank had to stick his fingers in it once for Connor when he accidentally lost control of his left arm. It was easy enough to fix, but when Hank had plugged the offending wire back into place, he was sure that Connor had  _ moaned.  _ At the time, Hank wasn’t ready to deal with that. 

 

Now, though. Now he is.

 

He presses down on it gently, watching as it slides upward to reveal a glowing mess of intricate wires and lights. Connor shifts.

 

“Hank?” he says. “Can I ask what you’re doing?

 

“Nope,” Hank replies. “Nothin’ dangerous, don’t worry. Just tell me if I do somethin’ you don’t like.”

 

“What do you—  _ oh.” _

 

Hank smiles at the sharp inhale of unneeded breath Connor takes as his fingers graze over the wires at the forefront of the panel. He pauses at the base of one, fits it between two of his fingers, and tugs just the slightest bit.

 

Connor jumps.

 

“H-Hank,” he says in a strangled voice, “are you doing this on purpose?”

 

“You can figure that much out on your own, _boychik.”_  Hank smiles. Connor’s eyes flutter at the term of endearment, one of his hands flying up to grab at Hank’s knee when another wire is tugged. 

 

“Shit,” Connor hisses. “That— That feels really nice.”

 

Hank hums under his breath, pleased with Connor’s statement. He rarely ever curses, so Hank takes pride in being able to pull a bad word from him every now and then. 

 

“I figured out the first time you had me fix something back here that you liked it,” Hank says. “Something about this gets you off. Dunno what it is, but it works.”

 

“I don’t quite understand it either—  _ ah,”  _ Connor moans as Hank trails a finger through the mess of wires. His grip on Hank’s knee tightens. “Please keep doing that.”

 

Connor doesn’t have to say much to convince him. Hank shoves the rest of his fingers inside, trailing them along wires and lights while his other hand cards through Connor’s hair. Connor’s face is mesmerizing to watch. When he tugs on something, Connor’s eyebrows shoot up and his lips fall open. When he gently trails across the inside, Connor’s eyebrows knit together and he groans. The hand on his knee is tight and warm and alive. Hank feels his heart (and his dick) swell.

 

“Hank,” Connor breathes when Hank’s fingers find a rhythm along two criss-crossing wires, stroking them back and forth. Connor’s  _ panting _ , something he only does when they’re doing something sexual. Hank fucking adores it. “Hank, oh god, please, I—  _ fuck _ , keep doing that, I’m—“

 

And then Hank pulls.

 

A wire comes out. Connor moans louder than he has since Hank began. His body shudders, his grip on his knee turns vice-like, and his face turns into Hank’s lap as his eyes squeeze shut. 

 

Hank is frozen. He just—

 

“Shit, did you just come?” he asks incredulously. “You just fuckin’ came, didn’t you?”

 

Connor’s hand relaxes, his eyes opening. He blinks. The colors in them are wrong. “I did,” he says bluntly. “It was… a lot. But a good kind of a lot. However, I can’t see.”

 

“What?”

 

“The wire you pulled? The one that triggered my orgasm? It cut off my sight.” 

 

“Fuck,” Hank curses, nearly laughing at the realization. “Guess I should probably put that back in, huh?”

 

“I would appreciate it,” Connor says. 

 

Hank lowers his head closer to the panel so he can find the port he pulled the wire from. When he finds it, he clicks it into place. Connor jumps, moaning again.

 

“Sensitive?” Hank asks. It seems like plugging the wire back in was the equivalent of touching someone’s bits after they’ve come.

 

Connor nods against Hank’s legs. “Very,” he says. “Thank you for that. I know that was probably… very unusual.”

 

“I’ve seen weirder shit on the internet,” Hank says casually. “But, uh… any chance I could get a turn?”

 

Connor turns his head upward on his lap to look at him, subsequently brushing his cheek against Hank’s hard dick under his pants. His breath catches in his throat when Connor notices and turns his head more to press his mouth to the bulge. 

 

Connor smiles. “You don’t even have to ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> when u nut so hard u go blind 
> 
> (pls comment i love comments so much i beg of u)
> 
> (also boychik is a yiddish term of endearment! i headcanon hank as being jewish and having learned a good amount of yiddish while growing up bc of a grandma or something)


End file.
